


Doors unlocked and open

by alunsina



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Coitus Interruptus, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 09:21:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9378308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alunsina/pseuds/alunsina
Summary: It’s probably bad industry practice to jerk off to someone you work with.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for the recently concluded kaifectionery fest using prompt 120: "Minseok walks in on Jongin touching himself while looking at pics of Minseok's abs online." cleaned up a bit from the original posted here http://kaifectionery.livejournal.com/12875.html
> 
> Thanks to Isa for brainstorming help!

 

 

 

 

In the end Jongin is caught red-handed. It’s not even because he’s extremely loud or indecorous or that he just couldn’t keep it in his pants (though it would’ve helped a lot if he did). Jongin’s technique is quiet, drawn-out, but most importantly, private –done behind locked doors and shower stalls, underneath blankets or hidden in the pounding spray of the water; he bites into the meaty part of his hand to swallow back what little sounds he makes when he comes; he wipes himself off, wipes his browser history off, washes with the meticulousness of someone escaping a crime scene.

Anyway, it’s probably bad industry practice to jerk off to someone you work with.

  

**

 

They stare at him like he grew another head instead of just breaking his ankle.

“That doesn’t look comfortable,” Chanyeol says, eyeing the cast as Jongin is—honest to God—wheeled onto the stage for a half-day of concert rehearsals. “Are you sure you should be here?”

Jongin’s supposed to sit this one out as per the doctor’s orders, but he talked it out with the performance director, told him he’s a professional and surely his ankle would work fine given a couple of hours of rest. Jaewon hyung sighed and placed him on wheelchair assignment.

“Hyung said it should be okay,” Jongin shrugs.

The other members warm up to the topic of Jongin’s ankle in a way only bored people can. Rehearsals are always a stop and go affair. Dry runs interspersed with interminable equipment checks and sound checks and lighting checks, blocking, and _could Yixing try going up on the stage lifts again, thank you_ , as they all mill around the concert venue, waiting for their turn. Kyungsoo is conversing with one of the sound techs in low tones. Joonmyun is off stage right running through the steps one more time. Jongin watches as Minseok lets Jongdae fix the errant in-ear monitor wires underneath his collar, casual and easy, Jongdae keeping up conversation while Minseok’s mouth moues in concentration. Minseok laughs at something Jongdae said and punches him in the arm.

“Wouldn’t it be hard to shower with that thing on?” Baekhyun pokes Jongin to get his attention.

“Dance. Sing. Or perform in a concert,” Sehun adds.

“Ha.” Jongin chooses to ignore the mild jibes in favor of getting to his feet and hopefully hobble the short distance between wheelchair and his designated performance stool. He must’ve been taking too long because there’s warmth at his side, it’s Minseok a hand span away, and Jongin hesitates but then grips Minseok’s shoulders, uses it as leverage to go up to his seat.

“Actually,” Baekhyun starts up again, his voice still light and teasing, “it’ll be hard to do that other thing in the shower too,” and at seeing the blank incomprehension in Sehun’s face, he shakes his head. “Ahh, it’s nothing.”

Minseok sighs and squeezes Jongin’s arm in reassurance. “Don’t mind them. We were worried about you, you know?”

His face feels warm, even his exposed toes look warm, Jongin thinks, and says thanks without looking up, strangely intent as he wiggles his toes one, two, three.

 

**

 

It’s Baekhyun’s fault, Jongin wants to say, that and Jongin’s libido, possibly the door’s fault too. Or his blasted leg. Possibly all of the above.

 

**

 

It’s inconvenient, in a sense that Jongin has become hyperaware and self-conscious around Minseok, how Jongin talks and acts around him, how impossible it is to do gestures that used to be mundane and mindless but now imbued with different meanings. Resting his forehead on Minseok’s back during the long waits offstage, the casual comfort in which he can swing his leg over Minseok’s thighs and sidle up to him for warmth during bus rides, reaching out and drawing hyung close to him like how a kid would act towards a cute and favored toy—

“Yah, am I your stuffed animal?” Minseok says one time, Jongin coming abruptly awake in the K dorm couch with his arm slung around Minseok’s waist. Jongin rubs at this eyes, unable to make sense of why Minseok is at their dorms at an undecipherable hour of one in the afternoon. “Did you sleep your free day off? I swear you haven’t moved from the couch since this morning.”

“Sleep is important. And hyung is not that soft anymore. You won’t make a very good stuffed animal,” Jongin mumbles, head still foggy. He can feel the vibrations of incredulous laughter in Minseok’s belly.

“Go back to sleep,” Minseok says but doesn’t make a move as Jongin continues to hold him hostage with a loose hug. He lifts an eyebrow as Jongin scoots to the back of the couch, tugging Minseok’s sweater, an invitation.

“You could use some rest, too,” Jongin says and means it. Minseok’s hectic filming schedules means he gets about an hour or two of sleep at most.

But Minseok doesn’t really come to the K dorms for no reason. Minseok doesn’t hang out with Jongin on the couch. Theirs is a long, friendly and comfortable association, grown from the familiarity with each other’s personalities and quirks in-between concert tours and dance practice and lounging in all the waiting rooms. Jongin is not Jongdae or Yixing, Minseok’s subunit dongsaengs. Not the maknae Sehun Minseok used to go home with and hang out during trainee days. Not Baekhyun, who has grown much closer with Minseok over time, and who has even moved on to room with Jongdae and Minseok like it’s the most natural course of things.

Minseok sits up. “I’ll be fine, I’m just waiting for manager hyung. I need to get to uni and attend a seminar.” He smiles and ruffles Jongin’s hair. Jongin lets him go.  

 

**

 

To give Baekhyun credit where credit is due, it is difficult to jerk off in the shower with a broken ankle to worry about. Most of the time it’s not even worth the trouble of a proper set-up. Still, being grounded in the dorms makes Jongin antsy. He’s taken to monitoring members’ performances on TV. He’s been staring at the same page of his manga. He’s wound too tight to even take a short nap.

Tissues. Laptop. Curtains drawn across bright windows and the reassurance that his roommates won’t be coming back from prerecording or filming anytime soon. Jongin settles himself down on his bed and props his offending foot on a pillow. Scrolls through the pictures that he wants—it’s not even naked pictures, just shirtless ones of hyung that their fans took with frightening detail and clarity at one of their concerts—and already he’s half-hard in his sleeping pants from the anticipation and that familiar pool of guilt and desire at the bottom of his gut.

Just another guy with a good-looking body, Jongin repeats in his head, eyes tracking over the pictures of sweaty abs before pulling down his waistband to get a hand on himself. A few strokes and he’s fully hard, almost leaking across his palm, and Jongin knows it wouldn’t take him too long.

He’s seen hyung half-naked many times. It’s practically a given with their countless outfit changes backstage. But there’s something to be said about looking at high resolution fansite photos and noticing, for the first time, the jut of his hipbones, the soft dark trail of hair starting from below hyung’s belly button and going down his— Jongin buries his face into his sheets, face aflame, tightening the circle of his hand as he pumps harder and faster.

_We were worried about you_ , hyung said, squeezing Jongin’s arm, and Jongin’s traitorous brain wonders what it’s like to have Minseok’s strong hand around his cock, Minseok’s slick and callused fingers slipping down the crack of his ass, Minseok leaning in close from behind to whisper, _don’t mind them_ , before biting the tip of Jongin’s ear. Minseok was being nice and helpful and Jongin is. He’s horrible. Jongin curls into himself as he comes with a shudder, imagining spilling his cum across the muscles of Minseok’s belly, across his sweaty chest.

His injured leg juts out of the pillows and hits the bed post with a loud thunk.

Jongin yells. He rolls off the bed and his right shoulder makes contact with the floor in surprised pain. Far away, a door slams open.

“I was just outside and I heard- “ Jongin doesn’t have to look up to know who it is. He can recognize that voice anywhere. “What happened? Did you get hurt?”

 

**

 

Jongin is aware of what he looks like. Pants drawn down mid-thigh. Tell-tale stains on the fabric. His body in full sweat. It’s a good thing he hasn’t howled out a name like a dog in heat, but he doesn’t think having pictures of hyung’s abs plastered on his laptop screen is any better.

It’s too dim to read the expression on Minseok’s face. Jongin finds he can’t do anything much than breathe and listen to the jack-rabbiting of his heart.

Then: “Jongin, are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital to have it checked?” like Jongin just got into an accident, no big deal.

“I fell. It’s not- My foot doesn’t hurt that much.” His shoulder feels bruised.

“I’ll go call the manager.” Minseok casts his head around the room like he’s searching for something, until his gaze settles on a pressed pile of training pants on Kyungsoo’s side of the room.

“Here.” Minseok hands him Kyungsoo’s black track pants, not long enough for Jongin, sure, but has seen better days compared to what he is only halfway-wearing.

“I’ll be back in five minutes,” Minseok says and goes out of the door. Jongin doesn’t need to be told twice that he needs to be decent by then.

 

**

 

There's nothing much to be done about it. A short trip to the hospital and Jongin finds himself lying to the manager and his doctor ("Fell off the bed, had a bad dream," he says, which is about the closest thing to the truth that you can get) and then a car ride home where his manager repeats reminders to be more careful next time. His foot is fine, Jongin just bruised his shoulders and did no irreversible damage, but through the quiet relief there's something prickly and sharp pressing down his chest, a worry or fear.

It's already dark by the time they reach the dorm building. There's an awful moment when they get home, in between standing in front of the K dorm waiting for manager hyung to key in the code to their doors, and the doors opening, that Jongin has the urge to just turn around and leg it, crutches and all, and never come back.

“So I heard from Minseok you had to go to the hospital,” Joonmyun says to him the next morning, having cornered him near the fridge, Jongin not so much awake but exhausted from not being able to get some sleep. Jongin’s holding a cup of yogurt by the brim with his teeth, phone in hand, and he almost drops both to the floor.

“You okay?”

Jongin nods. He isn’t. There’s that prickly nervousness again, spreading hot and cold across his chest, going to his hands.

“What did Minseok hyung say?” he gets out, and realizes what he’s afraid of: what if he isn’t allowed back onstage, what if he made Minseok and the rest of the group uncomfortable enough they don’t want him anymore?

Joonmyun pats him. “It wasn’t your fault, Jongin, don’t worry about it.  Accidents happen and nightmares can get the best of us. Good thing Minseok has such great timing, huh?”

 

**

 

Ankle and awkwardness aside, there’s still work to do. Photoshoots, tv appearances, recording for some odd song or two, meetings, doctor visits. Jongin goes to physical therapy when he doesn’t have a group schedule, sleeps, sneaks into the kitchen at weird hours of the day to steal fruits and yogurt cups, doesn’t quite look people in the eye when he bumps into them in the dorms or in SM’s hallways. Kyungsoo comments on how he’s becoming more of a recluse than usual, which is something. His ankle gets better. He doesn’t notice anyone treating him any differently. Minseok doesn’t approach him.

Then in a stroke of unfortunate timing Minseok loses riding shotgun in the group van, Kyungsoo having plopped himself onto the front passenger seat seconds earlier with his huge Chanyeol-shaped wall blocking the rest. Jongin slides open the van’s backseat and before he can leg it back, Minseok calls his name, patting the empty space next to him, “Jongin-ah, there’s a free spot right here.”

Only a minute of indecision and Jongdae bumps him from behind, telling him to move it, so Jongin has no choice but to climb and sit right next to Minseok.

“We haven’t seen you for a while,” Minseok says, first thing, “you aren’t avoiding us are you?”

Jongdae settles on Jongin’s other side. “What are you saying, hyung? Jongin’s been working hard to get better. Isn’t that right?”

Jongin can only nod back. Feels the tension collect like hard ice at the bottom of his spine. There’s a vague sensation of Minseok’s watching him, like he’s waiting, before Jongin hears him let out a long sigh.

“Take it easy. It’s going to be a long drive today, I heard,” Minseok says, moving into his corner and freeing up more space for Jongin to lounge in. Still, Jongin doesn’t get a wink of sleep during the car ride.

 

**

 

It used to be that Jongin had little care for things other than his own passion for music, dance, and the stage; perhaps when you are struggling to debut for years it was perfectly natural to think that everything else was secondary. Minseok had an eye-catching face, like everyone else that came after Jongin in SM, and Jongin hadn’t paid him much thought other than the odd polite greeting or two in the corridors and seeing him in practice rooms during evaluation periods.

“You’re really good,” Minseok praised him once, pre-debut, but that wasn’t unusual or strange, Jongin had been watched and evaluated for most of his life.

Sometime down the road, after debut, during joint promotions with the M subunit, without the subunits, in between schedules and practices, Jongin catches himself watching the lines of Minseok’s form, the sharpness, detail and precision of his movements. How, in the uncertainty of their year-long hiatus, he recognizes the same doggedness and determination Jongin has for his own work, and in turn getting puzzled at the shake of Minseok’s hands before performances, the tremor in hyung’s voice when he speaks in public.

“Minseok hyung is really good too,”  Jongin finds himself saying, one practice that goes well past 4 am, others collapsing in exhaustion and Minseok still unblinkingly and tirelessly awake, sitting down to catch his breath on the floor with Jongin.

Minseok belly-laughs. “Good enough for Kim Kai?”

More than good enough for anyone, Jongin thinks then. “You should believe in yourself more,” Jongin says, and to stifle any kind of useless protest crawls over to Minseok’s side, uses his tummy as a personal pillow, and takes a well-deserved nap.

 

**

 

Every concert doesn’t always end with a big dinner and a rowdy after-party. Some days they’re too tired to do anything beyond collapsing in their van, half-heartedly shove some convenience store food down their throats, and then proceed to face-plant in their respective hotel beds for the night.

This is not one of those times.

“I just wanted to get more meat,” Jongin whines as Jongdae pours him a glass of tea and a separate soju shot, just in case Jongin changes his mind about the alcohol; Jongdae mentions in no uncertain terms that since this is Jongin’s first performance back from his injury it wouldn’t do to not celebrate in some way.

Maybe it’s the alcoholic fumes Jongin has been getting from his untouched soju, maybe Minseok has finally reached his halfway limit in drinks, either way, Minseok looks appealingly flushed and ruffled in their quiet end of the table, and against better judgment Jongin downs his terrible shot and lets Minseok pour him another, lets his guard down, watches the fair column of Minseok’s neck as he drinks.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Minseok starts, hands folded over the table, perfectly calm and sober except the flush has spread down his neck too, “about those pictures on your computer.”

Jongin promptly chokes on a greasy morsel of pork belly and it takes more than a minute before he can get his breath back, stealing someone’s glass of water on the way with some member yelling, “Ah, you shouldn’t be so greedy, Jonginnie, chew your food, chew!”

Minseok looks apologetic at least for his bad timing and reaches over to rub soothingly at Jongin’s back.

"Are you disgusted?" Jongin blurts out and well, Minseok has the right to be, he didn't ask for any of this. It's only been one shot and already Jongin can feel the heat from the soju turning his stomach; he can't even parse the look Minseok's giving him. "I'm sorry you had to see that, but are you going to tell anyone?"

“What? No! I wouldn’t!” Minseok exclaims a little too loud. After taking a deep breath and glancing around to make sure no one is paying them undue attention, he lowers his voice. “I’m not telling anyone, I didn’t mean it like a threat. I should be the one apologizing, it shouldn’t be anyone’s business but yours it’s just I—” He’s shaking his head. “No that isn’t it. Just. Be careful, Jongin. In this industry, in our kind of work, our job doesn’t allow for much. Other people might misunderstand.”

“Oh,” Jongin says.

“I’m not—offended,” Minseok’s mouth twists into an odd smile, almost practiced, “it happens. And I understand how hard it can be trying to keep things private.”

Jongin feeling suddenly brave, because things aren’t adding up, because Minseok isn’t really telling him anything. “Hyung, what is it that you really wanted to ask me?”

“Ah, never mind, it’s silly,” Minseok says, again that twisted smile, “because you had one of my pictures, I thought for a minute you liked me.”

 

**

 

_Just be careful_ , Minseok had warned him, _our job doesn’t allow for much_. Doesn’t allow for passion outside of work, doesn’t allow for ugliness and imperfections and horribleness, where everything else that doesn’t jive with their image should be locked and kept away from prying eyes, even desires and small wants as basic and natural as they come. Backstage for their dress rehearsals Jongin, without much thinking, searches out for Minseok’s presence, like always, like a terrible habit, sees him mid-change, bright neon Nike shirt being pulled off and Minseok’s peroxide hair reappearing, and it’s like he’s a sun god, his hair a halo against his fair body and all its subtle shadows.

Jongin stares and is caught by Minseok.

_I thought you liked me_. Minseok’s self-deprecating smile.

Jongin doesn’t break eye contact. Because he does like him. For a long time now.

He puts on the white dress shirt. A coordi exclaims, “Minseokkie, are you hot? Should I go and get you a fan? Why are you so red?”

Minseok looks straight back at Jongin and doesn’t take his eyes off of him either.

 

**

 

Time seems to be its own creature, slowing down just as Jongin is filled with urgency in the middle of their concert, after their concert, the frisson and goosebumps going up his arms as Minseok hands him a bottle of water and their fingers brush, hyung's touch lingering, almost too casual to not be planned. On the plane back home and in the van, watching Minseok like he always does, Jongin finally recognizing what he felt as envy and jealousy of others’ intimacy and casualness with Minseok, realizing he can have the same and even more. There is no need to watch and wait. This is not some broken ankle bone that required more time to set.

He waits until the K dorm quiets down, until Kyungsoo snuffles into deep sleep in their shared room and Chanyeol stashes himself back into his personal studio. Jongin pulls on a hoodie and toes out to the dark living room and hopes that no one sees him, hopes that Minseok is awake and inside his room and not biking outside by the Han river.

But when Jongin opens the door Minseok is already there, hidden in his own training hoodie gear too, shivering in the cold with his phone gripped tightly in one hand.

"I was trying to call you but you weren’t answering," Minseok says as if it explained everything about why he’s there waiting at the doorstep, looking both breathless and determined. He shoves his phone back into his pockets.

"I lost my phone," Jongin says.

"There's something we need to talk about."

"Yes."

He lets Minseok inside. Locks the door behind him. He isn’t sure who makes the first move, just that his nose hurts from bumping into Minseok’s cheekbone, their aim is off, Minseok’s hands are ice on the back of his neck, and Minseok is whispering “sorry, let me” at Jongin’s chin, and the second time is so much better though no less frantic: Jongin pressed up against the door and pulling on Minseok’s hoodie, kissing open-mouthed and sloppy so unlike the usual precision and care he associates with Minseok, Minseok who’s taking up space between his legs, solid and warm and not nearly close enough.

“I should’ve talked to you sooner,” Minseok mumbles and Jongin almost giggles; he would be embarrassed if he isn’t so deliriously and hilariously turned on with the way Minseok applies himself to the sensitive spot at the base of his neck, sucking kisses, nipping with his teeth.

“Slide down a bit for me.”

Jongin does and there, right there, Minseok slipping his muscular thigh where Jongin needs the pressure and friction the most, Jongin’s hips giving an involuntary jerk, wanting to be closer, Minseok muttering “wait” with the same desperation that courses throughout Jongin’s body, loosening the drawstring of Jongin’s training pants so he can easily slip a rough hand underneath the waistband and finally _finally_.

There’s the beeping sound of the door unlocking behind them.

They both jolt in panic, and for lack of time rather than ideas, they find themselves diving behind the couch for cover.

It’s Chanyeol letting in a cold draft from god knows where. “Oh, I thought I heard someone.” He stops at the threshold of the dorm like he’s just waiting for anything to pop up and surprise him. A few excruciating seconds crawls by before he shuts the door, crosses the darkened living room floor. They can hear him putter around the kitchen and open the fridge.

Even in the dark Jongin can see Minseok’s shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

“It’s not funny.” Jongin is already hard as rocks it’s painful. As if to smooth over Jongin’s offended sensibilities, Minseok cards through Jongin’s sweaty bangs, fixes them.

“I like you. But this is what it’s going to be like, Jongin, I’m afraid.” And Minseok’s smile shifts, like it’s been tainted by the surrounding shadows, quiet and bittersweet; it’s not a plea or a warning, just a plain statement of fact of how it’s going to play out between them—stealing moments whenever they can, hiding away from their members, everything behind closed doors. 

“We can’t,” Jongin echoes.

“Yeah. I’ve been telling that to myself.” One last pass at Jongin’s bangs. Minseok gets to his feet and offers a hand to help him up. Jongin taking it and slotting their fingers together, grounded by Minseok who is here, who came here even knowing the risks, Minseok who plans everything out but is easily shaken and moved by the unexpected, sloppy and imprecise in his kisses, both confident in what he wants and uncertain he would get it. He came _here_ for Jongin.

A loud thud from the kitchen and Chanyeol hissing in pain. The kitchen area flooding with light.

“I can’t stay here,” Minseok whispers.

“ _We_ can’t stay here where others can catch us.” So Jongin can make his meaning clearer, he lands one quick kiss with his newly improved aim and relishes the pleasant surprise lighting up Minseok’s face. “But we can find another place.”

“Yeah?” Minseok is grinning. Jongin thinks it’s contagious.

They haven’t let go of each other’s hands; sure, they can. They can.

 

**

 

“Did you ever think of me in the shower before?” Minseok is slicking his fingers with Jongin’s cum he scooped up from his own beautiful abs, and that question is so unfair in so many levels: they are in the hotel room shower, Jongin had just come his brains out over Minseok’s abs in one minute flat of them humping under the noise of the pounding water, Minseok licking one of his cum-stained fingers clean in curiosity.

“Uh,” Jongin says and Minseok raises both eyebrows at him. “I did.” Should he tell him about fantasy #120, Minseok barging in in the middle of him showering and taking him hard and rough and brutally deep against the freezing tiles by surprise?

“Oh, you’re hard again. What are you thinking? Please share to the class.” He licks a hot stripe from Jongin’s abdomen up to his chest. One day Jongin will get back at him at full power when he gathers his wits faster in these trysts. For now, he grabs at the opportunity, literally grabs Minseok between his thighs, sees Minseok’s eyes darken.

“Maybe for next time.” Jongin goes down on his knees. They have time.

 

**

 

Press conference for their three-day concert in Seoul for their new album. They sit in their designated places in the line-up, Jongin and Minseok near opposing ends, which is for the best really. The media is not prepared for untimely footage of too much thigh-touching.

Someone throws them a question too quick for Jongin to catch. Judging from the tone it seems to be lighthearted enough.

Joonmyun takes over the mic. "Guys, any weird and funny incidents from our overseas concerts the past year? In our hotel rooms? Backstage?" Everyone seems to blank out except Yixing who raises his hand and says loudly, "There are ghosts in our rooms."

Jongdae is laughing. "What? Our rooms aren't haunted, hyung! Why do you keep saying that? It's not true!"

But the press has latched onto Yixing's tidbit of news—ghosts following EXO! And despite protests from Jongdae who doesn't believe in ghosts, from Baekhyun who believes and is terribly afraid of them, Yixing regales the media of the nightly (or early morning) terrors, the almost too-quiet keening noise he hears whenever he's staying with EXO.

"I'm not lying. I have very good ears, you know? I can definitely hear them cry out in pain," Yixing insists and he must've seen some expression flit across Minseok's face because he calls him out, "Am I right, Xiumin hyung? You heard them too right? In the dorms and hotel rooms?"

“Ah, I’ve been listening to a lot of-“ Minseok makes a too-quick glance at Jongin on the other side and apparently embarrassment shared is not halved but quadrupled and makes Jongin want to sink down the earth. “-New Age, experimental music? Maybe that’s what you overheard?”

The keyword _Minseok loves New Age music_ barely manages to drown the ghost story article in SNS. Still, they go without for a week.

 

 

 

The end


End file.
